


This Can't Be Real

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bedroom Sex, Bottom Castiel, Deepthroating, Fluff and Smut, Insecure Dean, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's feeling a little insecure. Cas helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Can't Be Real

_This can’t be real._

Four words that have become a mantra for Dean, playing over and over and over in his head. because he just doesn’t believe he gets to have this.

Even though he’s been reassured countless times that _this_ is truly his to have.

Dean stares up at the bedroom ceiling not wanting to check the time for fear of disturbing this pleasant waking dream, and lets his fingers creep across the mattress until they come into contact with skin.

Cas doesn’t so much stir at his touch, rather moulds around it, pressing himself unconsciously against Dean’s hand as he sleeps.

Even with the bare skin right there beneath his fingertips, Dean still pauses for the punchline, holds his breath for the _just kidding_ , steels himself for losing something that it’s taken so long to admit he actually wants, that he’s damned if he’ll hold back on being sentimental now.

Cas is everything to him, and _everything_ is not a word that comes easy for Dean.

And Cas knows this; in the quiet of the mornings when they wake curled into one another. In the dark of nights when they only have time to glimpse at one another across salt lines, sigils scratched into surfaces, and so much death and chaos that it’s a wonder they ever sleep for the nightmares.

Cas also knows, it seems, when Dean is not himself sleeping.

Fingers steeple over his own against Cas’ thigh, and there’s a hint of a yawn, before Cas is wriggling and waking himself up.

“Don’t,” Dean starts; he never meant to disturb Cas with his usual insecurities. He never means to _be_ insecure in the first place. But either way, Cas is already awake, gripping his fingers tightly and anchoring Dean there beside him without even needing to be asked.

“Dean,” Cas mumbles; his voice is gravel through sleep, and as often happens when he hears this tone Dean’s heart thuds, his cock twitches, and a shot of desire flies through him, leaving Dean fidgety.

“Go back to sleep,” Dean tells him gently, rolling to his side and pressing a kiss into Cas’ shoulder as he loosens his fingers from beneath Cas’ and grips around his waist instead.

Cas shifts, hums with approval at the contact. “You are thinking very loudly, Dean. It is distracting,”

A surge of guilt hits Dean’s chest then, and he goes to roll away, but is stopped by an irritated click in Cas’ throat telling him not to go anywhere.

With a sigh, Dean kisses Cas’ shoulder again, splays his fingers to curl around Cas as much as possible, rolls forward further until his front is pressing fully against Cas’ side. Cas circles his wrist, awkwardly shifts his arm, wraps his hand around Dean’s instantly interested cock and begins a lazy, sleepy stroke.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Dean says, his voice catching at the feel of being in Cas’ gentle grip, closing his eyes and breathing out low, and shallow. Cas wraps his free hand around Dean’s wrist, moves until Dean’s fingers are discovering Cas’ hardness, and that breath shallows even more.

“I think that you will find I am quite awake,” Cas says, clearly amused, and Dean is lost. And thankful. And so damn helpless when it comes to giving Cas everything he wants.

Dean squeezes around Cas’ cock for a second then slides his hand up Cas’ side, over his chest to graze fingers in circles over his nipples in turn, continuing the kisses to his shoulder and smiling there as Cas arches up a little at his touch. Dean rolls, wedging a knee between Cas’ to support himself and trailing those kisses up Cas’ neck to bite, sucking a bruise that will give him some evidence in the morning that maybe this _is_ real, that Cas is _his_.

Dean pulls away at the sudden brightness that is Cas turning on the bedside lamp, and Dean sees Cas staring up at him with a wicked smile that has Dean’s breath quicken.

“I believe you were in the middle of something,” Cas tells him, and Dean hears the touch of amusement there all over again. So Dean does just that, wasting no time at all in sliding his way down Cas’ body, wrapping his hands around Cas’ waist and grazing his teeth and tongue over hipbones that quite honestly have been distracting Dean since the first time he got an accidental flash of them so many years ago.

Cas hums in approval, and Dean watches as Cas steadily swells and thickens under his ministrations, standing proud and _waiting_ bare inches from Dean’s mouth.

Dean never thought he’d actually like this, but since that first taste of Cas bitter against his tongue, and those sounds that had ripped their way out of Cas’ mouth nearly making Dean come himself just from hearing them, Dean has never been able to keep himself away.

Another shift, and he’s bracing himself against the bed, hands flat on the sheets as he ghosts a breath over Cas’ head, smiling as he watches it twitch. Dean’s flicking his tongue out a second later and groaning in answer to Cas’ groan, lapping against him, relishing the rigidness of his crown, the way his slit glistens and leaks so quickly just from this very beginning of touches.

Dean presses a kiss to Cas’ tip, unmoving and waiting for Cas to look down at him. When he does just that, Dean opens his mouth and leans, slowly, lips stretching over that ridge, down his shaft, until Cas’ cockhead is grazing the back of this throat. Dean sucks hard, once, feeling himself harden further as Cas lets out what is probably going to be the first of a stream of obscenities.

Still sucking hard, Dean pulls off, but instantly takes Cas in his mouth again, starting up a slow, thorough bobbing up and down that never breaks eye contact and always takes as much of Cas in as he can.

Dean hollows out his cheeks and sucks hard, moaning himself at Cas’ groan above him. Then he’s pulling off altogether, nuzzling into Cas’ base, laving a long lick all the way up Cas’ length and over his head again, before kissing all the way back down again.

Dean ghosts kisses up and down Cas’ length, earning him whimpers and pleas for him to take Cas back into his mouth.

Dean looks up at Cas again, winks, and swallows him down as far as he can once more, smiling around him as Cas arches beneath him with a long, guttural groan.

Dean tells himself to relax, takes in a little more, works through the reflex of his throat to reject the intrusion of Cas’ cockhead. Instantly, as though begging and inviting more, Cas parts his legs; Dean adjusts himself so he’s still comfortable then pulls off, slow, teasing, before swallowing down again, a little more.

Cas groans his name as Dean continues this slow, steady sucking of him down, until his throat is full and he’s having to breath out through his nose, keeping himself calm. There’s a moment Dean takes to calm himself further, and then he’s swallowing around Cas, closing his eyes at the barrage of praise and obscenities it squeezes out of him.

Dean shifts his head slightly and Cas is gasping, feet bracing against the bed as he fucks up into Dean’s mouth, his fingers twitching in Dean’s hair as he fights to control the urge to be rougher than Dean can handle.

Cas always seems so thoroughly _overwhelmed_ when Dean does this for him; Dean learned that early in their exploration of each other, loves the way Cas is writhing and pliant beneath him, and holds on as long as he can through Cas’ thrusts and gasps, ignoring his own need for _something_ in favour of doing this for Cas. But Cas knows Dean well enough to recognise when Dean is getting tired; fucking up into Dean’s mouth a couple more times and then very obviously forcing himself to still.

Then Cas is shifting again, gently murmuring at Dean as he strokes through his hair, asking him to move. He gestures for Dean to move up the bed and kisses him softly, then without warning is flipping Dean over and on to his back. Cas kisses him hard then, fervent, thrusting his tongue into Dean’s mouth repeatedly in the most dirty of kisses Dean thinks he’s ever been on the receiving end of.

Cas’ hand is on him again, swirling up the precum leaking with his thumb and smearing it over his shaft, wrapping his fingers around in a gentle but firm grip, and begins fisting him slowly and thoroughly.

Dean could come so easily like this, he thinks to himself, happy to be pliant in Cas’ hand, to lay there and just _take_ whatever Cas is offering him. But that’s clearly not going to happen, because Cas is moving yet again, scrabbling in the drawer beside the bed and pulling out the lube that they get through at a frankly alarming rate. He covers his fingers; Dean closes his eyes expecting the feel of the cool gel to hit him at any moment, but instead feels the bed dip. Dean opens his eyes instantly to Cas straddling him, and before he can comment, object, or offer encouragement, Cas is spearing himself open with an urgency that speaks of how much he wants Dean inside him as soon as is possible.

Dean can do nothing but watch as Cas’ fingers disappear, arch, and scissor inside himself, with accompanying moans that make Dean have to close his eyes temporarily for fear that he’ll come at just the sight in front of him. And in what seems not enough time later Cas is shifting himself, straddling Dean’s lap, pressing Dean’s cockhead against his own hole and lowering himself, slowly taking him in.

There is a joint moan between them as Cas sinks down, until he’s fully seated and gasping a little for breath. Dean knows Cas should have worked himself open further, and knows this is intentional; Dean let it slip once how good it feels to be inside him when he’s that little bit _too_ tight, and now Cas tries to give him that as often as he can get away with - because Dean always protests, hates the thought of hurting him, and tries his hardest to make Cas wait, to tell him it’s okay, that there’s more to this than just what _he_ wants.

But Cas, it seems, is more than happy enough, if the open-mouthed groan he gives as he throws his head back is anything to go by. Dean swallows thickly, watching as Cas adjusts himself a little more then drops his head forward, giving Dean a thoroughly lewd wink that makes Dean’s throat dry all over again.

Dean strokes his hands up Cas’ thighs, looking up at him in what he knows is adoring wonder. Cas circles his hips a couple of times, getting used to the feel of Dean so thoroughly buried inside him, and then raises himself until Dean’s cock head is catching against his rim, barely keeping him in place.

Cas pauses, smirks, waits, because he knows full well just how much Dean won’t be able to resist glancing down at where their bodies are joined, at where Cas is now sinking down on him again and filling himself up. He does it again; lifting slowly, neck arching at the drag of Dean inside him, pausing, then lowering himself once more.

Dean’s hands slip from Cas’ thighs and hit the bed as he moves his legs, feet flush against the bed, knees parted. He parts them a little further and the movement as Cas sinks down on him again has Cas falling forward with a moan. Dean curls his fingers into the sheet, eyes greedily watching as he’s slipping in and out of Cas, as Cas rides him slowly, with these soft moans that Dean swears makes him harder still with every one that escapes Cas’ lips.

Cas brings up a hand to wrap around himself; Dean’s breath stutters as he watches Cas circle his thumb over his own head and moan again. He slicks himself up, instantly working a rhythm to fuck into his hand as he fucks himself down on Dean, the most dirty of noises escaping out of him until Dean can no longer lie there without getting himself more involved.

Dean raises his hands again, grips hard around Cas’ hips, braces his feet against the bed and thrusts up at the angle he knows will have Cas calling out. The stuttering, breathy _Dean_ he hears just has Dean desperate to go harder, and faster, and pound up into Cas without any sense of rhythm at all. He’s chasing Cas’ reaction every time he manages to strike Cas’ prostate; he’s chasing that warmth spreading out through his abdomen sending sparks and jolts of pleasure through him that tell him to drive up harder, grip tighter, take _more_.

Cas is showing no objection to any of this at all, slamming his hips down against Dean’s thrusts, calling out a litany of praise and pleas that spurs Dean on further, gasping and groaning himself. This is the point when they’re together like this when Dean’s helpless, unable to do anything but chase those sensations, lose himself entirely. But Cas, it seems, has other ideas.

Cas presses his hands firmly on Dean’s chest, circling his palms over his hardened nipples, telling him to slow; Dean does instantly, panting heavily and fighting against the way his own hips twitch for him to take more. Cas pauses for a breath, and then he’s back to raising himself slowly, sliding down even slower, circling his hips; the purposely slow movements so they can both feel every drag of Dean’s cock deep inside him making them both moan out desperate gasps.

Dean watches Cas also fighting against going faster, short, stabbing breaths speaking of the effort it’s taking to keep it slow, to savour these languid thrusts and strokes. Cas eases himself down on Dean then, flaring his hips down insistently. Dean answers with an angle of his hips up and Cas circles his hips, grinding his prostate down over Dean’s cock and letting out these whimpering moans that have Dean just about lose it, scrabbling his hands around Dean’s shoulders to hold on, to keep things steady, to brace himself as he continues that slow, tortuous circling.

Dean can’t keep it steady anymore, Cas is too tight around him, and he needs to chase their release, right now. Cas fingers tighten as he braces himself,before slamming his hips hard down on Dean repeatedly, urging him on.

Dean’s grip around Cas’ waist as he fucks up into him hard he knows is going to leave marks, and knowing how Cas will turn this way and that and smirk at them in the mirror just spurs him on more, bucking and thrusting and calling out Cas’ name, as Cas writhes and whimpers on his lap.

Cas fists himself harder, tighter, slipping his own grip as he rides Dean as hard as he can, and then he’s tensing, groaning, covering his own hand and Dean’s chest. Dean groans as Cas tightens around him, the fluttering of his hole proving the final push. He grips Cas again, harder still, gives two, three desperate, whimpering thrusts and arches up on the bed into Cas with such force Cas is thrown forward a little, his hands slipping from Dean’s shoulders and falling on to the bed.

Cas rights himself, smiling down at Dean victoriously, circling his hips to show how sloppy he now is with Dean’s cum inside him. To see him doing that has Dean dropping his head back against the pillow with a thud and a groan, hands sliding up Cas’ sides as he presses their chests together and kisses the corner of Dean’s mouth, nuzzles against his jaw, and drops his head down on Dean’s shoulder with a deep, contented sigh.

“This _is_ real, Dean,” Cas assures him softly when his breath is back, with gentle kisses along his jawline, hooking his thumb under Dean’s chin to turn his face away so that he can lay open mouth kisses along his neck, stopping a couple of times to bite a little harder.

“I-”

“You were talking in your sleep. Again,” Cas murmurs into his ear, a kiss to the shell, a soft nip at the lobe, a nuzzle into the sensitive skin just behind.

“Uh…” Dean stammers out, embarrassed, surprised, wondering how often _again_ means, and how many times Cas has actually heard him.

“I am _yours_ , Dean,” Cas tells him, shifting to peer at him with that intense stare that always makes Dean hold his breath a little, brace for the best, or worst kind of storms. “And you are _mine_. We do ‘get to have this’, we _are_ ‘having this’, and if you wish to wake me in the middle of the night, every night, so we can do _this_ to remind you, I am more than happy to oblige,”

Cas’ words and sudden kiss to his lips render Dean speechless, pliant under Cas’ touch as he swiftly cleans them up, shifts and turns Dean on to his side, wraps himself around Dean and pulls him back against his chest, fingers splayed across his stomach in a clear claim.

Soft kisses to the back of Dean’s neck follow and continue, growing sleepier and more sporadic the closer Cas gets to sleep. Dean hears and feels one final, “ _Mine_ ,” muttered against his skin and then he feels the tell tale slackening in Cas’ grip that signals he has finally succumbed.

 _Alright_ , Dean tells himself, smiling into the darkness and feeling thoroughly sated and the best kind of aching, _maybe this_ is _real._

With the smallest of movements to adjust himself, Dean finally relaxes and allows Cas’ warmth lull him into a contented sleep.

  



End file.
